


Blueberries

by BuzzCat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (look it's not necessarily shippy but if you want to read it like that you can), Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-27 14:53:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13883184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuzzCat/pseuds/BuzzCat
Summary: When Sam is stuck at the bunker, dosed out of his mind on cold medicine, he learns they have an extra roommate, one of the last ones he'd have ever expected. Gabriel decides that maybe coming out of hiding isn't the worst idea.





	Blueberries

Sam didn’t know what to do with himself in the Men of Letters bunker. Dean was out on a hunt and Sam was…well, Sam was sick. He practically had to shove Dean out the door to go hunt the witch.

“Really, Dean. I’m an adult. I know how to be sick.”

“Really? Because I seem to recall that last time you felt like shit, you waited ‘til I was gone and then just rocked on out of here and followed me.”

“That was one time!”

“Don’t care, Sammy. Sit your ass down. Eat some soup, watch some crap TV, and sleep,” Dean had pointed a finger at him, “If I come home and find you neck deep in research I will personally chain you to the bed and dose you with enough NyQuil you’ll wake up sometime next year.” Dean had said as he walked out the door. Sam shook his head, then grimaced. Shaking his head should not give him a headache that fast. With a sigh, Sam microwaved a bowl of the soup Dean had left him and dragged himself back to his room. He slurped down the soup and threw back the covers, crawling into bed. Moments later, he was asleep.

Much before he was ready to, Sam found himself awake. Moreover, awake and listening to ABBA mysteriously blasting through the bunker. Of all the weird shit his brother listened to, Dean would never bring that into the bunker. Sam rolled out of bed and tried to shake himself awake. It worked, a little. At least, some of the sleep gunk fell out of his eyes. He grabbed a gun and a knife, tucking the gun into the back of his pajama pants and keeping the knife in hand. As he opened the door, it occurred to Sam that clad in pajama pants, shoeless and shirtless was not the most advisable hunting attire, but he wasn’t about to let something trash the bunker because he needed to put on a shirt. Sam moved silently, not that anyone could have heard him over the music. He searched hallways and eventually made his way more toward the common area. As he stood there, he realized he could hear…singing? And pots being clanged around in the kitchen? He moved quickly, standing just outside the kitchen door. Sure enough, someone was singing along, and admittedly they were doing a pretty good job of it. Something about that voice was familiar as well, but Sam couldn’t quite place it. Maybe it was just the cold medicine. He took a deep breath, then shoved the kitchen door open, knife pulled back and ready to attack.

Whatever he had been expecting, it wasn’t this.

Gabriel stood in his kitchen. More specifically, Gabriel was standing in front of a griddle and making pancakes. He wasn’t facing Sam and was dancing along to the music, hips moving as he sang and mixed batter. It appeared that Gabriel was wearing an apron and not much else. Sam was staring at the bare naked ass of an angel. An angel who was supposed to be dead, who was now in his kitchen singing along to ‘80s music and mostly naked.

Just then, a Jack Russel terrier came racing around the corner and started barking at Sam. Gabriel spun around and the two stood facing each other, frozen. The music continued, ‘Super Trooper’ playing on the radio. The whisk in Gabriel’s hand was slowly dripping batter on the floor. Sam eyed the scene one more time,

“Is this real?”

“Um…no. Fever dream. Wet dream. Hallucination. Whatever I need to say that makes you put that knife down, because my person already has the required amount of holes and doesn’t need another, thanks very much.”

Sam did not put down the knife, “How the hell are you here? Aren’t you supposed to be significantly more dead?” he asked. Gabriel shrugged,

“Hey man, I thought I was toast. Then bam! I wake up back in that hotel a year ago. Went looking for somewhere to set up shop and came across this lovely little hidey-hole. Then you and your idiot brother showed up and I had to start splitting time between here and a shitty hotel. _Not_ the one I got stabbed in, by the way. Didn’t intend to ever run into you two again, but apparently when Sam-I-Am gets a cold, the Dynamic Duo splits up,” Gabriel explained. Sam stared at him some more, knife still in hand. With a sigh, Gabriel snapped his fingers and the knife disappeared, as well as the gun tucked into Sam’s waistband. Sam glanced around for a weapon and Gabriel rolled his eyes and suddenly the knife block was on the other side of the kitchen from Sam, leaving him with a kitchen towel as his most formidable weapon. Gabriel whined,

“Seriously, kid. Look, I’m just trying to make breakfast. You look like someone hit you with a truck and backed over you again and trust me, I know what that looks like.”

Sam didn’t look comforted. Gabriel sighed,

“Here, how about this: I make breakfast, you sit down before you fall down, and then we eat like two civilized beings? I promise not to kill or maim you and you promise the same to me.”

Sam thought about it for a moment. At this point, the only way it could be weirder is if dancing penguins appeared. If this was a fever dream, it could be a lot worse. If it was real, then maybe Gabriel didn’t actually intend on slicing and dicing him. In way, Sam was just too tired to care about whatever Gabriel intended to do. Sam rubbed his temple and shuffled over to the counter, leaning against it, “Fine. Deal. Just, do me a solid and put some pants on? And can we at least turn the music down?”

“Your wish is my command, o Samshine the Tall.” With a snap, Gabriel was wearing rubber ducky pajama pants and the music had faded into the background. Gabriel looked over at Sam and snapped. A barstool appeared next to the counter and Sam sat down. He couldn’t help the smile and snort at the outlandish pants and Gabriel turned around, smiling as he wiggled his hips, “You like them? I make ‘em in extra extra tall as well.”

“Nah, think I’ll stick to plaid.”

“What a Winchester move.” Gabriel ladled batter onto the griddle and for a moment the sizzle was the only sound in the kitchen. Sam’s smile slowly faded as he stared into space, then he looked up at Gabriel,

“Hey. Gabriel,” He waited for the angel to turn and face him, an eyebrow raised, “Thanks. For what you did back in the hotel. I, I don’t think we ever really thanked you for everything you did.”

“You didn’t. But you’re welcome.” Gabriel turned back to the pancakes, his acknowledgement a simple statement of the facts without any of the other teasing or games that normally accompanied his words. Somehow, that simple exchanged lightened the atmosphere of the kitchen. Sam felt some of the tenseness leave his shoulders and Gabriel seemed to relax a miniscule amount as well. The first batch of pancakes was soon done and Gabriel parked a plate in front of Sam, three pancakes stacked on top of it. He leaned forward,

“What kind of toppings, kiddo? Strawberries, maple syrup, chocolate syrup, butter, anchovies. You name it I got it.”

“Blueberries,” Sam said, then his manners got the better of him, “please.”

“Blueberries it is.” Gabriel snapped his fingers and blueberries appeared in two small piles on top of the stack, whipped cream forming a half circle at the bottom to complete the smiley face. Sam looked up and fixed Gabriel with a look. Gabriel held his hands up in surrender,

“Yeesh, try to do something nice around here.” He snapped his fingers again and the whipped cream disappeared and left more blueberries in its wake. Sam picked up a fork and dug in as Gabriel turned back to the griddle, ladling the second batch of pancakes onto the hot surface. As Sam watched a half-naked angel make pancakes in the bunker, he shook his head at himself. Leading the life he did, he’d had some strange dreams. A half-naked theoretically dead archangel making him blueberry pancakes took the cake for sheer absurdity. But even as he sat there, waiting to wake up, Sam couldn’t deny that there was something good about this dream. Something almost comforting about it.

Almost as soon as Sam’s pancakes were gone, he felt his eyelids start to droop. Gabriel was busy making a pancake and whipped cream cannoli for himself and didn’t notice how tired Sam was until the giant almost fell out of his chair. Then Gabriel was right beside him, his shoulder pressed against Sam’s and Sam registered distantly that it felt nice, to have Gabriel right there.

“Easy there cowboy, apparently it’s naptime. C’mon, autobots roll out.” Gabriel followed Sam’s directions to the bedroom until Sam pushed his door open and collapsed onto his bed. Gabriel forced him to crawl under the covers and suddenly Sam felt himself…was he getting _tucked into bed_ by _Gabriel_? Definitely too much cold medicine. As he drifted off, Sam felt Gabriel press a hand to his chest and then suddenly his sinuses were clear and his lungs could work as intended. But before Sam could say thank you, he was asleep.

Gabriel stared down at the sleeping Sam Winchester. He knew if he wanted to, if he cleaned everything up and left everything as he’d found it, Sam would put the whole thing down to a fever dream. But the longer Gabriel stood there, the more he realized that he didn’t want to be forgotten in a dream. He’d been on his own for years; he was tired of drifting. Even as Loki, he’d been able to form at least a couple friendships, or at least acquaintance-ships over the years. Gabriel was not a creature meant to be alone. With a sigh, he snapped his fingers quietly and left a stack of pancakes on Sam’s nightstand, the steam curling off them and they’d remain hot until Sam woke up. Gabriel closed the door quietly behind him as he walked back to the kitchen. He could totally befriend the Winchesters. After all, if Castiel could do it, how hard could it be?

**Author's Note:**

> lol guess who's going through her files and discovered this gem I started like three years ago


End file.
